All that I've Got
by McMahon-Levesque
Summary: "...almost as if he feels like I've been de-womanized, stripped of my humanity. Truth be told it pains me to see him worry about me when I'm left alone. I don't think there's been a day where I've been without him since the incident. Simply put, Jerry was right about getting on the wrong side of the wrong people." I'm not sure if this is a one-shot or not. R/R
1. Chapter 1

March 22, 2000

 _It was all lie._

 _Ya' know the bright lights beaming above you because you've been involved in a deadly accident and everything seems all hazy? Or how about when your husband's been forced to watch the demise of your mind. How about staring down the barrel of gun? Something life threatening._

 _It was all a lie- those muttered words of encouragement that everything is going to be all right. I simply nod my head and comply with all the bullshit being spewed. My mind is the aggressor informing me that no matter how hard I try to recover quickly it just isn't an option anymore. Setbacks have been often lately. Hunter seems to have this look of pity and sympathy on his face- one that I despise because it seems as if he's belittling me as a woman- his eyes are like the window to his soul; cliché I know, but his eyes they just stare at me with this sadness... almost as if he feels like I've been de-womanized, stripped of my humanity. Truth be told it pains me to see him worry about me when I'm left alone. I don't think there's been a day where I've been without him since the incident. Simply put, Jerry was right about getting on the wrong side of the wrong people._

 _We crossed a boundary. A failed delivery and now we're paying for it...well more so me than Hunter. Nightmares are frequent. I don't believe I've quite overcome the obstacle of screaming during the middle of the night or shooting up in sweats. I've gotten better, yet I still find myself feeling guilty for waking Hunter. He's such a beautiful specimen of a man, and I couldn't have asked for a better husband. Although I can sense the guilt radiating off of him as well. I can't possibly imagine the pain he's had to deal with since what he witnessed. I mean the man was beaten to a pulp and forced to watch my fallout. I'm so sorry I screwed this up baby. If it was up to me I'd do everything in my power to rewind the past and just ding everything completely different. Perhaps a different approach? Hell, who am I kidding, I wouldn't do any of it a t all. Drugs are a scary thing, but not to us. Ha, we found ourselves enticed, and landed ourselves in a risky business. I mean you remember how we started, with the whole Robert thing and-and Andrew! Gosh, what a co-ink-a-dink that was. I'm drunk and probably blurring lines together. Long story short, I shouldn't have picked up this damn cigarette because I can feel my anxiety creeping in like a million shadows. Does that make sense? Probably like this letter makes absolutely no sense. I mean I'm drunk so it shouldn't._

 _Sincerely, Stephanie_

I sway my hips to the tempo of the music, and crumble the letter withing the palm of my slender hand. I hit a bottle of tequila, I've had 4 cigarettes, and snorted some coke. It's hot, humid, sweaty. This dress is barely containing my breasts and I'll bet money my ass is hanging out of the skimpy skirt, and my heels they were tossed to the side hours ago. I'm a mess and truthfully I'm not even sure where I'm at...lost. Great, but that's okay Fleetwood Mac's Dreams, seems to numb my body, although I'm sure it's the fact that I've knocked back an entire bottle of tequila and then some.

"And what you lost..." I sing out in a pitch nowhere near its original. I mean I'm sure it should be illegal to sing Stevie Knicks so shitty. I'm sober enough to remember the lyrics that's a good sign.

I giggle to myself, how I managed to write out a letter is unbeknownst to me. I wonder where Hunter is. Shit, he's probably on the phone with every single jail in this town, maybe the hospitals, hell even the morgue. Honestly, I'm a ticking time bomb set for an explosion at a time suitable to my needs. Maybe that's why everyone's been up my ass the past few months. I mean you don't get raped by 3 guys while your husband watches on and feign an 'I'm okay' response. I mean I managed to sway everyone into a false sense of security. I secretly smoke although that's just for nerves, and so is coke and drinking. I've been on edge for quite some time. My nightmares were just an indicative that I was nowhere near fine. Hunter was the only person who experienced my nightmares firsthand. He was always there to console me back to seep, clutched me in his arms and rocked me to sleep. His words were the only ones that mattered. I'll bet now he'll regret not wanting to touch me. That's why I'm currently occupying a hotel and not my home. Sex was the purpose of our argument. I'd finally mustered up enough courage to get past a simple kiss and heavy petting only to be shot down by those 7 words, 'Stephanie you're not ready for this yet', those 7 words were like a knife to the heart. Instead of bawling my eyes out like I usually would during an argument to get my way , I channeled my energy into rage. The rage that led me to slapping him square on the left cheek, calling him a bastard for not doing anything while I was raped, I lied saying I enjoyed every single minute of being fucked by other men, I hurt him because I was in pain. He had never rejected me, and the look in his eyes made me realize that I had well and truly fucked up. So before he could mutter he wanted a divorce... I left. I'm certain those were the words he was to use, but I mean I'll never know I guess.

"Players only love you when their playing!" I slur loudly still swaying to the beat. I'm in a euphoric oblivious kind of state.

"Steph!" followed by a series of persistent knocks.

My head snaps towards the door and I'm confused at why someone's just yelled my name. I unsteadily head towards the radio sat atop a counter and lower the volume. I stumble across the room to get to the door and check the peephole.

Hunter.

* * *

This was just me getting back into the swing of things. One-Shot, unless I decide otherwise. R/R


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I'm back and with an update! This one is a bit more on the dark side, so it may be triggering for some people. Read with caution I guess. Ooh, and thanks to **AttitudeEraChick** for reviewing everything. check out her story, btw. Don't forget to R/R. Sorry if there's typos. I'm running on a Monster and 3 hours of sleep.

* * *

November 27, 1999

 _The room was musty, air filled with the stench of sweat, sex, a mixture of various alcoholic beverages, and drugs. It most definitely wasn't an ideal location for the Helmsley's. Strippers swayed to the beat of the music clearly familiarized with the atmosphere. Men sat perched above worn leather, liquor in hand throwing money around as they pleased. Casinos, expensive bars, and hotels were out of the question. Charles Ortuva was not a very reasonable man, but Stephanie and Hunter would throw their livelihoods on the line to gain the man as a client. He was a tremendous asset; bought variety to the table. There was certainly no negotiating with a man who was absolutely willing to walk away from the Helmsley's. Ortuva had a vision, a very bright and brilliant one at that, one that would lead the Helmsley's, Reigns', and Rollins' into prosperity. A clear straight path into a drug safe haven, cops would be handled at their expense, a chain of merchandise spread throughout the country. The Helmsley's were going to be wealthy._

 _Stephanie clung to Hunter's arm head held high. Her husband and her were the standard bearers among the men and women in the room. Everyone who wasn't them wanted to be them so to speak. Arrogance and cockiness marred her features evidently. She was damn sure confident Ortuva was signing the dotted line. There were absolutely no flaws in the brief summary she'd given Ortuva. The duo had a plan for their expanding drug empire Ortuva was just another stepping stone in achieving greatness as a company. He wasn't to know of the devised plan though. The man was completely and totally 100% in the dark about the split in the long run. Helmsley and Ortuva were certainly doing business just not as long as Charles had in mind. In fact, not as long as anyone had in mind. Stephanie and Hunter knew what was best however, getting dictated by Ortuva was certainly not best for business. Only the pair barked orders at **their** employees. They would kill Charles Ortuva in due time. _

" _Helmsley," Hunter stated as they entered a dimly lit corridor that led to a conference room in which Charles was awaiting their arrival._

 _The guard whispered into an earpiece for confirmation that the Helmsley's were due. The man who was bald, wore shades, and a badly tailored suit stepped aside granting the duo access. Just as Stephanie walked through the door more guard dogs stepped in front of her with sadistic smiles adorning their faces, unlike the other guard the two men wore dress shirts and slacks minus the shades._

" _I need to search ya' ma'am and **sir** ," the blonde haired and blue eyed one emphasized the last statement rather sternly. _

_Stephanie sighed reluctantly, but gasped in surprise as she was pushed up against the wall roughly. Hunter freed himself of the man patting him down and shoved Chris angrily, "Don't you dare fucking touch her!"_

 _The commotion was enough to alert the men inside the designated conference room, and were soon filing out before Charles. Chris laughed sinisterly taunting Hunter, almost pleading with him to do something. These fucking Helmsley's thought that they had gotten one over on the Ortuva family, wrong. That fucking leech Stacy was eager to spill. The task itself had been a breeze. The long-legged blonde was willing to be exchange information for a good fuck. Of course she had been killed shortly after, leeches could not be fucking trusted certainly not one like her. The woman was willing to betray her best friend in exchange for a fuck, a fuck. Now that was one fucked up bitch, one that once again couldn't be trusted with any Ortuva business. There was no way in hell he was letting a rat spill any confidential news that could possibly lead to the demise of Ortuva to the Helmsley's._

 _That, however, was the façade he'd so carefully built. No one was to know of Stacy's supposed betrayal. Chris snickered in amusement. They'd gotten one over on the McMahon-Helmsley's._

" _Chris, that's enough. I doubt the woman would carry a gun in between in her breasts or legs," Charles spoke up, "Stephanie, Hunter, my sincerest apologies. Please come in."_

 _The door shut behind them as Stephanie hung onto Hunter's arm in fear of that sick twisted fuck grabbing her again. Hunter wrapped a protective arm around her waist pulling out a chair for Stephanie and himself. They sat down, Stephanie's hands immediately coming to Hunter's knee underneath the table as Charles paced around the room anxiously. Hunter glanced at his wife his much larger hand engulfing her reassuringly. At least three to four men surrounded the room with guns in hand. Which Hunter deemed unnecessary, if the man was going to sign why in the hell did he need an army in the room. They were conducting business not a nuclear war._

 _Charles cleared his throat, "Y'know Stephy, I knew your father. Arrogant son of a bitch," he chuckled at the statement himself, "You come in here... mother's eyes and daddy's dimpled chin 6 years later conducting business with me. Now, I'm not an idiot. You know this. I have my ways of finding out things," he continued pacing the room scratching at his beard absently, "You think I'm a fucking idiot?!" He exploded and stopped pacing the room to stare at the blue eyed brunette intently, hands slamming down against the wooden table. Stephanie jumped back startled at his sudden outburst. Hunter stood ready to defend his wife if need be._

" _Sit your ass down, now!" Charles demanded completely irate._

 _Slowly, Hunter lowered himself back down as he felt an object press up against the back of his head. He walked around the table stood confidently behind the McMahon-Helmsley heiress who eyes were wide in fear, "Do you think I'm a idiot Mrs. Helmsley?" he whispered into her ear silently fuming._

 _Caught. Red fucking handed. Only a handful of people knew about their carefully devised plan. There was no way in hell they may have misinterpreted someone, their small circle was loyal, or at least they had thought so. The tears welled in her blue orbs as it dawned on her that she along with her husband may not see the crack of daylight. There was so much she had wanted to do in life. Hunter and her were supposed to start a family together, supposed to travel the world together, rule New York and New Hampshire with an iron fist. Those plans were slowly but surely being diminished by the fact that her husband had a gun pressed to the back of his head and Charles Ortuva breathing down her neck._

" _No," she whispered so lowly Charles had to strain to hear her._

" _No?" he questioned, "then...then what are these Miss McMahon?" A file of photos were dropped in front of her: Stacy sat in a compromising with the asshole guard, Chris._

" _I'll kill her!" Stephanie bursted._

 _Charles laughed heartily along with the rest of the men in the room with the exception of Hunter, "well, there's absolutely no need to do such a thing seeing as she's already dead." Another photo was dropped unto the table: Stacy's mouth, wrists, and ankles taped up with a pool of blood encompassing the floor beneath her. A tear slipped down her lashes and onto the photo. Her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief at the sight before her. Memories shrouded her mind of the blonde. Best friend...dead. She knew soon she'd join the slinky blonde._

" _What's wrong McMahon? Don't want the bitch dead anymore?! I mean you must be frightened yourself, but don't worry we won't kill you just yet. Here's what I propose...we break you. We rip you're dignity and humanity from you piece by piece and then we'll kill you," Charles leaned in once more voice dropping huskily, "Sound like a plan, sweetheart?"_

 _He hadn't given her chance to respond and she was yanked up by her hair up on her feet. The tears began to steadily flow down her cheeks as Hunter was assaulted by the men surrounding the room. Kick after kick ,blow after blow. He tried to fight back initially, but was weakened as each man took a stab at him, humiliating him. Jerry was right... Ortuva wasn't to be messed with and the Helmsley's were going to be his example as to why._

" _Please! No! Stop! Stop!" She pleaded as Hunter began to splutter blood from his mouth. Her pleas landed on deaf ears as her husband was destroyed before her eyes. A swift hand gripped her neck shoving her face first against the cool table. She screamed loudly as her attacker's hand began to bunch her red dress around her waist and ripping at her black laced thong._

" _No, please! Please!" She cried helplessly, by now Hunter was being held up by two men watching the destruction of his wife._

" _Hunter! Please! I'm sorry, please!" Her cries were relentless as she heard the faint sound of a a belt buckle being undone and a zipper flying down._


	3. Chapter 3

October 6, 1997

6:24 PM

"Stace, I'm telling you. Hey, okay relax. Everything is under control; you can breathe now. My dad took care of it."

There was a slight pause followed by Stacy's panicked response.

"Yes, it's okay. I'll be over in a bit. Okay, bye. I'll see you soon."

Her late lunch had turned for the worse as Hunter had called to cancel due to a lingering issue brought to his attention by her father. She sat, alone, salad and drink before her contemplating the latest kill, again led by her father. Jonah Walsh had been executed at the hands of her husband, ordered by her father. Stephanie sighed warily running a hand through her chestnut tresses. To say the day had been stressful was an understatement. There was never a moment where she could be alone with her husband without him being carted away by her father. In fact, her father and herself had gotten into a spat the day before regarding a recurring issue, Jonah Walsh. A leak in the business, informing cops of few exchanges as well as seducing an oblivious Stacy then forcefully demanding information. The cops had been hot on their trail for almost 2 weeks, with such information, alerting them that something had clearly been said. The McMahon's had expertly led them astray letting the heat gradually subside. It only took a small amount of time to conclude that the business had been infested with a rat going around airing their dirty laundry to the public.

A shrill ring broke her reverie causing her to jump in surprise. Immediately, she answered the call without knowledge of the person on the other end, "Stephanie spea-,"

"Stephanie Marie, where in the hell are you?" The familiar tone caused her to roll her eyes annoyance however, that was short lived as she came to the realization that she had obviously missed something of importance.

"What do you mean?" She had blanked, so stupidly, completely blanked.

The sigh off annoyance certainly hadn't gone unnoticed, "I need you home, right this instance Stephanie! No detours. Do you understand me?"

She cringed at his use of tone; businesslike one he reserved for clients only. She felt like a child being scolded by her father and she swore it took her back to when she 8 years old: constantly getting in trouble for wreaking havoc with her toys or stealing a bite of dessert before being instructed to do so, "I understand, Daddy," was her weak response.

"Good, I'll see you at home then," followed by a click indicating the call had ended.

Composing herself, she downed the rest of her wine in a gulp, leaving enough money to pay her order. Cautiously approaching the BMW awaiting her, shooting Henryk, her driver, a pleading look. She fumbled through her pockets in search of a cigarette and lighter, once her hand connected with the designated items she slipped her wedding and engagement rings into her pocket. She knew how much Hunter hated it, but her nerves couldn't be contained by even the most soothing voices telling her everything would be fine. What a husband didn't know never hurt, right? However, it did matter hence the reason she removed her rings every time she took a drag.

Placing the slim stick of nicotine between her index and middle fingers she shakily lit the bud, soon after placing it between her rosy pink lips taking a long swig and expelling a tense breath from between the lips that had spoken many words, screamed many words, mumbled many in submission, that had been kissed by her husband, that had hung open from pleasure, the lips that had placed a cigarette between them many times before this one. Many puffs later she discarded the remaining cig to the floor, hoping Henryk didn't mind the wait.

"Where to Miss?" he spoke politely while opening the backseat door.

"Home." She muttered barely audible slipping past him and through the car door.

Once in the security of her car, she pulled out her phone sending a brief message,

 **'** **Won't make it. I'll swing around tomorrow. Hang in there Stace.'**

7:58 PM

Henryk opened the door for the final time that night offering his hand in a kind gesture to Stephanie. She gladly accepted, taking wary steps towards the door of her childhood home. Entering the warmth of the room, she removed her coat handing it off to Saskia their maid. Making her way through the foyer she spotted her brother, father, husband and mother awaiting her impatiently.

"I'm home." She mumbled lowly. Hunter was the first to look up from his seated position. However, still too distracted by the look on her husband's face and caught up in her own thoughts she missed the angry father approaching her at a steady, determined pace. Pain shot through her upper arms as he gripped her tightly between his hands, she was shoved against the nearest wall, causing an uproar by mother, brother, and husband.

"Stephanie Marie, you'd better have a damn good explanation for what I've been hearing!"

Stephanie's look remained frazzled and confused and her eyes began to cloud over with unshed tears. She didn't do anything that screamed 'shove me against the wall'. All morning she'd been running around delivering paperwork from her father to clients, and then there was that failed lunch, and Stacy bawling her eyes out. Nothing. Nothing came to mind. Absolutely nothing.

"Vincent!" Linda shouted sternly. "Dad! That's enough!" Shane followed suit.

Hunter wasn't one to see his wife in such a vulnerable position, nor was he one to see his wife harmed in anyway so instead shoved at Vince roughly; removing the angry old man from his very distraught wife who had by then bursted out in tears more so from the stress of the day weighing in on her shoulders. Her arms encircled her husband's waist, face being buried in his white dress shirt.

"Don't you ever put your hands on her again!" Hunter threatened, pointing a finger towards his father in-law. Hunter then made a hasty exit to the next room, Stephanie clung onto his side.

The silence was inevitable, and Vince had looked down at the floor questioning his actions. His baby girl had a look of fright in her eyes, she was clueless. Fool or not, but that look was one that couldn't be mistaken. She hadn't had the slightest clue what in the hell he was talking about.

"What in the world was that Vincent?" Linda questioned arms outstretched into a questioning manner.

"I don't know…I-I- don't know," his voice trailed off.

Ortuva was going to pay. May he never doubt his allegiance to his family again.


End file.
